


Birds Sing At Night

by thedarkestnightwillend



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Fluff, M/M, like a lot of fluff, shakespeare troupe baybee, they are theatre kids dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:33:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestnightwillend/pseuds/thedarkestnightwillend
Summary: “Opening night!” Grantaire announces as he walks through the backstage door.“Opening night!” A chorus responds from the women’s dressing room to his right. Grantaire picks up the pen hanging from the wall and signs his name on the sheet. Several messages from the rehearsals earlier that week wish him and his castmates a good show, telling them to ‘break as many limbs as possible’. Grantaire loves theatre.(R plays mercutio and E plays tybalt in romeo and juliet, but for some strange reason they can n e v e r get through their fight scene correctly! :D)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Birds Sing At Night

**Author's Note:**

> for the enjolras hoes. :) enjoy!
> 
> also to fulfill my weird need for theatre au's. what can i say? they're fun. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Opening night!” Grantaire announces as he walks through the backstage door.

“Opening night!” A chorus responds from the women’s dressing room to his right. Grantaire picks up the pen hanging from the wall and signs his name on the sheet. Several messages from the rehearsals earlier that week wish him and his castmates a good show, telling them to ‘break as many limbs as possible’. Grantaire loves theatre. He also loves the show they’re doing;  _ Romeo and Juliet. _

When the cast list had come out, everyone had raved about how basically perfect the castings were. Cosette Fauchelevent, the leading lady in almost all of the Musain Community Theatre’s previous productions, as Juliet. Courfeyrac as Romeo, Grantaire as Mercutio, which a lot of people said was almost  _ too  _ perfect, as well as Marius Pontmercy as Benvolio. Though, there was one in particular that people weren’t too sure of.

Enjolras as Tybalt. This was for a few reasons. First, he was pretty inexperienced in acting, as he had started about a year ago. However, so had Marius, and everyone quickly realized that experience is definitely not the best thing to go off of here. Second, he seems a bit  _ too _ angry for this role. He’s surely going to use his general anger for acting, which is bound to get him distracted onstage. Third, his... _ chemistry... _ with Grantaire was almost inevitably going to make their fight scene end up in shambles. It almost looks like they hate eachother in real life, and as previously stated, putting real-life events into your acting is definitely not the best way to go. Hell, if Enjolras was angry enough he might actually kill Grantaire. Though that was unlikely. Enjolras could never kill anyone.

Hopefully.

But anyway, it was opening night, and after three months of rehearsals and run-throughs, blood, sweat and tears, the cast was ready to show what they had worked so hard on to the world. Well, one hundred and fifty-two people, according to the ticket sales for that night. They were excited nonetheless. 

Grantaire set his bag down in the near empty men’s dressing room, across the backstage space from the women’s room. They were directly below the attic, of which many production team and crew members-- that being mainly Éponine and Jehan-- said was haunted. Grantaire hadn’t heard ominous groaning yet, so he wasn’t quite sure. 

“Hey R,” He turns to see Éponine, stage manager, leaning through the doorway, “Have you seen Montparnasse yet? He needs to run lights for the tomb scene.” Grantaire shook his head. She nods, turns to leave, and then dips her head back into the room.

“Yes?” Grantaire asks mindlessly. 

“Let me know if you hear anything from Enjolras, too.You both need to run your fight scene a few times after fight call.” Grantaire cringes. No wonder that scene needs to be run. They still hadn’t been able to get it right. They’d only done it once, and Grantaire still was in shock.

It was that Monday, the first day of tech week. It was also nearing midnight, and they had been running the thing non stop. Everyone was tired and sweaty and desperately wanted to go home. They ended up running it one last time, and with a badly hidden complaint, Grantaire had started the scene. Without dialogue, as their director, Fantine, had told them to.

“Just get the fighting down, we want to get the right emotions behind them!” She said. Grantaire nodded, and unsheathed the prop sword from his hip. He was supposed to be angry enough to volunteer to fight in place of Romeo, but also keep his mind clear so as not to get killed.

Which he does anyway. So, his plan doesn’t fail, he just... _ Aha! _ Mercutio had gotten blinded by his anger of the insult to his cousin, so he fought in place for him. However, that anger also allowed him to get distracted when Romeo still enters the fray to help him, resulting in the sword to the gut. 

In that moment, Grantaire realized where he should be coming from, and Enjolras seemed to click at the exact same moment. Because, in some ways, their characters were coming from the same direction. Both Tybalt and Mercutio had no reason to be angry other than ‘keeping the rivalry’, therefore, the shock from killing a man with no real means behind it is strikingly real when it does happen, even if it had seemed logical moments before. Enjolras then had a side to come from and so did Grantaire. 

They realized how perfect it was the moment they finished and got the wonderful feeling of relief of knowing they had done something well after hours of practicing. 

“That was wonderful!” Fantine cheered from the second row. Éponine, beside her, clapped slowly, yawning at the same time. “If you can do that again tomorrow for our act three and four run through, you guys are going to be great the rest of the week!”

Sadly, they had had many problems the rest of the week, as it seems that the moment of clarity had merely come to them in a moment of sleep deprivation rather than proficiency in all things acting. They couldn’t replicate that emotion in their scene once that entire week, and people surrounding them were starting to get nervous. Of course, it’s a rather small scene, however it’s the event that pushes the rest of the play to happen, so they had to get it right. 

Grantaire shakes his head and continues his hair routine, putting in earbuds and disappearing into his thoughts for the little remaining time he had to himself. 

Not five minutes later, a bag is set down next to him and he looks up to see Enjolras. Because Grantaire is apparently  _ that _ lucky.

“Happy opening,” Enjolras greets. Grantaire repeats the words dully and starts on his base makeup. Enjolras does the same.

_ Stupid Enjolras,  _ Grantaire thought,  _ Not even needing to do his stupid perfect hair. Stupid perfect Enjolras.  _ Enjolras looks carefully over at him through the mirror, making sure to be subtle. Grantaire notices anyway.

_ Stupid Grantaire,  _ Enjolras thought,  _ Always getting to the theater on time. Stupid perfect Grantaire.  _ They both sit in silence for a few moments until the speaker announces that mic check is starting in one minute.

When they get onstage, Courfeyrac and Combeferre are already there, talking quietly . Combeferre says something intelligent (probably) and tech crew related (also probably) and Courfeyrac laughs a little too hard, reminding Grantaire of every single other showmance he had seen in his years of theatre. Almost  _ every show _ . It doesn’t ever end, apparently.

“Okay,” Montparnasse says from the light booth. “Mic A, Romeo. Go.” Courfeyrac looks up sharply, seemingly forgetting where he is 

“Uh…” He thinks hard for a few seconds, and Montparnasse reacts with an exasperated sigh.

“Just say some of your lines! Sing something!” Courfeyrac racks his brain, and finally settles on the classic balcony scene monologue. Moments later, the mic is turned off and Courfeyrac gives a thumbs up. He walks back to Combeferre. 

“Mic B. Cosette, your turn!” She looks up and does part of the balcony scene also. 

“Mic C, Enjolras!” Enjolras, who had been standing awkwardly in the corner upon seeing he wasn’t needed yet (and Courfeyrac and Combeferre were busy), looks up and gives a nice version of  _ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  _

“Am I good to go?” He asks after a second of silence. Montparnasse doesn’t answer. “Hello?” Montparnasse flicks a switch in the light booth and responds,

“No, we need some actual lines, Enjolras. Sorry.” Enjolras nods curtly, and thinks for a moment. 

“Patience perforce with will...with willful...choler meeting.” Enjolras concentrates, and then shakes his head. Is he...nervous? “Makes my flesh tremble in their...their…” Éponine, seeing that he is struggling, turns back in her seat to face the booth.

“Monty, I think he’s good, is he not?” Montparnasse doesn’t answer, and she waves back at Enjolras.”You’re--”

“No!’ Montparnasse interrupts. Enjolras stops, half turned around already. His face is seriously red now, seeing that most people are looking at him. “Can you finish the line? I’m uh, it’s not coming through that well, I want to make sure.” Éponine thinks to herself, and turns back again to the booth.

“It sounds good down here! He’s good, Monty!” Enjolras, looking severely embarrassed now, nods quickly when Éponine turns back around. He gets offstage as fast as he can. Everyone looks back to Montparnasse.

“Mic D. Grantaire!” 

<<<>>>

Grantaire, now done with his mic check, gets back to the dressing room. They have about ten minutes until the house opens, and they’re supposed to get an opening night cast picture in costume before that. So, he should get that done now so he’s not rushing later. 

He gets to the dressing room, which surprisingly only has Enjolras in it.

_ Just my luck,  _ He thinks. He goes to sit down, and hears a suspicious sniffle from his left. 

“Enjolras?” He asks, looking into the mirror. Enjolras has his head down, his blonde curls covering most of his face. His face is in his hands, and Grantaire suddenly realizes what is going on. “Oh my God, are you--”

“I know my lines, I swear I do, but God, when I’m put on the spot like that I just--” Enjolras dumps words out a mile a minute, and Grantaire is left stunned. What does he do? He didn’t think this would happen, and even if it did, he didn’t think Enjolras would just...say his true feelings unprompted. Not to Grantaire, at least.

“Woah, okay. Uh, breathe, dude. You’re gonna hyperventilate.” Grantaire subconsciously picks the skin around his nails, very unsure of how to go about this. 

“It’s opening night, and now everyone thinks I don’t know my lines!” He doesn’t speak and just cries for a second. Grantaire is left in stunned silence, seriously wondering what is going on. Enjolras really isn’t the person to sit in a room alone and cry, much less talk about his feelings. This happening while Grantaire is present, like previously mentioned, it just unheard of.

“I...Well, I know you know your lines. I mean, we all were here yesterday for the full tech run through. You had like, no mess-ups,” He manages to get out. It is true, everyone was pretty on point the past two days. “Plus, we all know who you are. You’re Enjolras. Of course you know your lines.” Enjolras finally looks up and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. His eyes are vaguely red and puffy, but other than that, he really looks exactly the same.

_ Of course.  _

“Uh, thank you,” Enjolras says quietly. Grantaire shrugs and doesn’t say anything further. “Oh, also. Sorry I’m such a dick to you all the time. I promise I don’t hate you.” Grantaire is thoroughly sure he has stepped into an alternate timeline. He blinks once and stares at him blankly. “You know, like, I’ve never had this big of a role before. So I’m always nervous around you.” Grantaire thinks for a second. 

“Those two don’t connect--” Enjolras nods quickly.

“I mean, you’re a really good actor and I’m not, so I’m anxious to match your skill,” He says, waiting for a response.

“Oh. Oh, um, thanks. You’re good, too.” Enjolras breathes.

“Did you not get the point of my previous statement, or…?” Grantaire laughs, looking at the carpeted floor, littered with bobby pins and lint.

“Well, what else am I going to say?” Enjolras smiles, and it suddenly occurs to Grantaire that he’s never seen this guy emit any positive emotions. “Woah! Woah, woah, woah, sir! Did I just get you to  _ smile? _ ” Enjolras smiles harder, and Grantaire laughs again, realizing he just got to joke around with Enjolras. 

“It’s not that rare, don’t act too surprised,” Enjolras says, rubbing his hands on his jeans. Grantaire shakes his head.

“Nope, that was an uncommon event. I’ve witnessed history.” Enjolras laughs again, and Grantaire catches himself staring. He’s discovered that Enjolras isn’t always a five foot five ball of anger, because when he isn’t, it makes the room  _ brighter _ . Or maybe that’s just Grantaire. But it is definitely nicer when he’s happy. 

Grantaire wondered why they couldn’t have done this sooner. Sure, Enjolras was nervous, but why? Yeah, Enjolras did say he thought himself a bad actor, and that he wanted to be as good as Grantaire, but surely there was more to just ‘I Was Nervous Because I Look Up To You’, right? Grantaire thought for a second, and came to a vague conclusion. He smiled to himself, and stood up from his chair.

“Break a leg, Enjolras,” He said, patting him on the back. He didn’t notice the gaze following as he went to get his costume. 

<<<>>>

It was nearly the scene.  _ The  _ scene. That one. And Enjolras is very clearly nervous. Grantaire passes him backstage, and notices him sitting on a stray chair near the stage left entrance. He’s staring blankly at the floor, mumbling words to himself while leaning his chin onto his prop sword. Grantaire squats down next to him, making the man jump.

“Sorry, I’m just reciting lines,” He says, his gaze passing over Grantaire on its way back to the floor. 

“You’re fine. I’m here because you seem antsy again.” Enjolras rolls his eyes. 

“And how did you form that opinion?” He asks quietly, remembering how close he is to the stage. He covers his mic with his hand, and Grantaire does the same.

“You jumped when I squatted next to you.” Enjolras laughs quietly.

“Well, yeah, I just saw a darkly clad figure move next to me. Who knows, you could be the theater ghost,” He says, leaning onto the hilt of his sword again. 

“Well if I  _ were  _ the ghost, I certainly wouldn’t haunt you,” Grantaire replies. Enjolras tips his head in confusion. “You’re too loud. Ghosts like quiet, that’s why he’s in the attic!” Enjolras smiles, and Grantaire thanks whichever deity made that sight newly accessible.

“Very specific factoid, there. Have you met the ghost?” Grantaire nods.

“Oh yeah. Plenty of times. His name is Bartholomew. Nice guy, has three kids,” He says casually. Enjolras laughs again, and Grantaire hears a familiar line. He has to enter soon. “Hey, I have to get over to stage right. I’ll see you soon.” Enjolras smiles grimly, and resumes his staring at the floor. The floor might get embarrassed if he continues that habit. Such pretty eyes constantly staring into your soul? Terrifying. Grantaire takes a chance, and ruffles Enjolras’ hair. He looks up again, slightly surprised.

“You’ll be fine, Enjolras.” They hold eye contact for a little while, until Grantaire realizes he has to go. Like, right now. He gives a little salute to Enjolras, now standing up from his seat and moving further towards the wings. Grantaire meets Marius at their entrance, with Courfeyrac leaning against the table a few feet away. Grantaire’s mind wanders for a second more, and recalls what his conclusion had been before the show in the dressing room. Then, he had been unsure. But now after seeing what he had been able to do just then-- joke around, make playful fun-- he was almost sure. But, Enjolras had no reason to be nervous.

Why? He  _ is  _ a good actor.

<<<>>>

“Congratulations on a wonderful opening night!” Éponine shouts over the cats in the house. The show was phenomenal, every single actor was spot on and no one slipped up once. 

And, Enjolras and Grantaire did theur scene just like they had that Monday. Enjolras has the proper anger in his eyes, Grantaire had the right fear and frustration, it was wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that a little old lady and her husband came up to the both of them after the show in the lobby to say that they both had ‘the most wonderful chemistry’ she had ever seen.

That was about ten minutes ago, though. Now, Éponine was making her speech, thanking the cast and crew for a wonderful first show, and soon giving notes. Enjolras had found Combeferre, however was left alone now that Combeferre was stolen by Courfeyrac. He sits in a chair in the sixth row, patiently waiting for cake like everyone around him. Grantaire chooses to sneak up on him again.

“Jeez, you have to stop doing that,” Enjolras says after Grantaire gives him a thorough surprise. 

“What--” Grantaire takes the seat next to him, “--Did you think Bartholomew was back?” Enjolras laughs, shaking his head. 

“No, not at all. You’re much too tall to be Bartholomew.” 

“Oh, you’ve met him?” Enjolras nods.

“Yes, you were right, he’s a very nice guy. He showed me the attic. Very creepy, I do not recommend,” Grantaire laughs, and realizes that the cast has started to head backstage to get out of costume. Cake is important, after all. 

“Maybe Barty is still back here. He could be ready to pounce at you because you called him short.” Enjolras laughs, and they go through the stage right entrance on their way to the men’s dressing room. 

“I mean. That or my insult to his residing place in the attic. Though, it did need some serious interior decorating. Too many spiders.” Grantaire laughs, and catches Enjolras staring. 

“Yes?” He asks, and Enjolras blinks. They’ve stopped near the prop table. 

“Oh, um, nothing.” Grantaire nods slowly, turning away, but Enjolras decides to elaborate. “It’s just, um, you have a very pretty-- nice smile. You have a pretty  _ nice  _ smile.” Grantaire looks at him, grinning, and sees that look in his eyes. The one that Grantaire has come to give Enjolras when  _ he _ smiles. Grantaire chuckles, adding another point to the correctness of his theory. 

“Her eye in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright, that birds would sing and think it were not night,” Grantaire recites. Enjolras turns to him quickly, looking a little surprised again. “I mean, technically that’s about eyes, but it kind of applies here.” Enjolras squints slightly, tipping his head and trying to figure out what Grantaire means. “I think you have a pretty smile too.” Enjolras shakes his head, blushing. Grantaire leans against the wall to his right, crossing his arms.

“Now, hang on, I said it was pretty  _ nice,  _ there’s a small difference!” Grantaire laughs. 

“Oh come on, I know what you meant. You know how I know?” Enjolras shakes his head again. Grantaire breaks eye contact to look at the surge of people going to get cake.

“Because I feel the same way about yours. And you in general. I um, I think you’re pretty.” He looks to Enjolras again, searching for a reaction. He simply blinks.

Grantaire pauses, and then accepts the fact he was wrong in his theory. He nods once, pushing off of the wall. 

“Okay then, I’m going to go change. I’m sorry if I--” He feels a hand grab his wrist and pull him backwards. He is left staring down into Enjolras’ eyes, barely a few inches between them. 

Grantaire has time to breathe once before Enjolras stands on his tiptoes and closes the space, pressing a kiss onto his lips. Grantaire nearly falls over. He doesn’t, he actually ends up running into the wall behind him, but he nearly does fall. Suddenly all thoughts of the outside world are gone from his mind, and the only thing he can focus on is Enjolras’ warmth in front of him, Enjolras’s hand cupping his cheek, and his finger’s entangling themselves in Enjolras’ hair. Really, what else is there to think about?

Well there is  _ one  _ thing. Enjolras really is a marvelous actor. Hell, Grantaire thought he  _ hated  _ him for three whole months. Turns out, Enjolras is just  _ really shitty  _ at hiding crushes. 

**Author's Note:**

> there were a lot of theatre terms! imma give u some definitions. :)
> 
> 1\. mic check/fight call: mic check happens before every show, it's to check if the mics are working properly. fight call is to rehearse combat choreography so no one gets hurt! practice until it's muscle memory, woo hoo!  
> 2\. "the wings": the curtains at the edge of the stage where actors enter and exit.  
> 3\. stage left/right/etc: rights and lefts from the actors' perspective on the stage.  
> 4\. showmance: a romance between two people in the cast or crew during a show. famous for lasting like. not very long but courf and ferre can make it work :)
> 
> i think that's about it! if u have any questions, drop a comment and i will answer and then add it to the list!
> 
> also,,,yeah they're in 1500s clothes i AM SORRY OKAYYY!! except like, the kinda cheap community theatre version, so like. scratchy pants and poofy shirt plus vests. like newsies but without hats yk? community theatre, shit happens. 
> 
> hope u enjoyed!! if u did, leave kudos and/or a comment, i will be thankful! :) find me on tumblr @/the-gayest-eponine!! thank you so much for reading!! <333


End file.
